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Charlotte
What was that?
My hand went to my neck, gathering the chain I always wore and running it through my fingers as he hurried to his police SUV. In a daze I watched him get inside, start it, and drive away. This moment felt almost as bad as when I had watched him leave the attorney’s office after we signed the divorce papers. My stomach lurched and I tossed the rest of my iced coffee and blueberry muffin in the trash can on the corner. My appetite was gone.
I hadn’t lied, but I hadn’t told him the entire truth either. Lies of omission were often just as bad. Guilt ate at me as I got into my car. I was tempted to drive back to the Sweetbriar High School track to run off these rotten feelings. But running out my emotions hadn’t worked this morning, so why would it work now? Damn it, I should have stayed away, found another place to hide out.
Coming back to Sweetbriar was a mistake.
He was smooth. The years had polished him to a shine. Cool, collected, and handsome as all hell, he had asked me questions as I shivered from what I was still trying to convince myself was the cold. But deep down I knew it was him. He affected me just as much as he always had, and it stung that he didn’t feel the same curiosity about me. After the accident, falling into his arms and wanting to stay there was not a fluke born of fear. It was obviously a resurgence of all the feelings I had tried so hard to bury, and now I knew for sure at least a few of them were back.
There was no time for this. I had a book due and a freaking stalker to deal with. There was already too much on my plate; adding leftover Cade feels to it would be ridiculous and dumb and a waste of time because he obviously didn’t care about me anymore.
I mean, he hadn’t cared enough when I left Sweetbriar for NYU to wait for me. I’d asked him for time, and he’d asked me for a divorce.
Brushing away the burgeoning hurt, I turned onto Main Street and aimlessly drove through town, filling myself up with bittersweet memories over each street I turned onto.
Eff this.
Wasting my feelings on a man who didn’t care about me beyond what I could provide for his police report was foolish. Motor moping around town was a waste of precious work time—and gas.
I pulled into the Quickbriar Stop and Go for a fill up and some breakfast. My appetite had returned and I was getting perilously close to unleashing my hangry alternate personality all over the unsuspecting citizens of Sweetbriar.
Plus, I had so much freaking work to do. Sleep was about to become a fond memory. My caffeine intake was about to triple, and I needed to stock up on writing snacks.
On a mission, I parked at the pump, told the attendant to fill ’er up, and marched through the glass double doors. I snagged a little basket and headed for cooler cases in the back—come to mama, Diet Dr. Pepper. I had a freakin’ book to finish. Detective Adaline Paige and her deadline of doom waited for no one.
“Hey, Charlotte!” Startled, I turned back to the front counter, snagging a Snickers and a bag of M&M’s from the rack on the way.
“Hey, Elizabeth! What’s up? How’s your sister?” Elizabeth’s family owned this place. Her sister, Gwen, was my Sweetbriar bestie, from pre-school to present day. We were supposed to have lunch and reconnect, but life stuff—otherwise known as her four kids—kept coming up to get in the way and I hadn’t seen her yet.
She gestured to a customer angrily stomping to the self-serve soda fountain. “I was trying to convince Mrs. Pain-In-My-Ass that I do not have Marlboros in the back,” she quietly hissed as she air-quoted ‘the back.’ “I don’t know what the hell people think we keep back there—Narnia? An elven workshop?” Her eyes rolled in comic annoyance. “My fricking purse is back there hanging on a hook next to the employee schedule on a jacked-up clipboard and a few expired Snapples, jeez. Anyway, Gwen is good, kids are good, the ex-husband is a dick-face loser as per usual. But you’d better text her back soon if you don’t want her all up in your face demanding details about the accident, know what I mean? Word about that has traveled all the way around town. You know how it is around here.”
“Gotcha. I’ll text her later. I don’t suppose you have Tapatío Doritos back there? No one ever stocks those.” I smirked as I gestured to the back room. “I need spicy writing fuel for Adaline’s extra spicy scenes.”
“Dude. I always have those, they’re my fave. Your spicy scenes are my fave too.” She laughed. “If you don’t find them on the shelf, check the box by the display. And next time you come in, I’m going to have my copy of Beg for It for you to sign.”
“You got it! I’m doing Vi’s book club soon. I hope you’ll come.”
“You know I wouldn’t miss that!”
“Awesome.” I meandered through the store, stuffing my basket with various Hostess, Little Debbie, and Lay’s products on my way to the Doritos in the rear corner. It was a sad fact that junk food made me write better. Or maybe the added sugar and preservatives did stuff to my brain chemistry and bumped up my creativity. I wasn’t going to question it. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. That was my motto.
The bell over the door dinged as someone entered the store. “Hey, Elizabeth.” My ears pricked.
It was Cade.
I couldn’t handle another run-in today. My heart was already hurting from the one earlier. The more I saw him, the harder it was to shove him out of my brain, and that’s what I had to do in order to regain at least part of my focus since Monsieur Assface Von Stalker was hogging up a good portion of the rest, dang it.
“Shoot,” I muttered as I rushed to the cardboard pyramid of Dorito bags and tried to squeeze my booty behind it. My purse slipped from my shoulder, jostling the basket from my elbow straight into the display, knocking it to the ground. “Dang it, damn it, crap.”
Now what?
I contemplated burying myself in the pile of chips but rejected the thought as I looked up; the security mirror showed Elizabeth trying not to laugh as she watched my antics.
Just fricking great.
Cade’s eyes were bright as he fought a smile and headed my way. “I’ll help her pick it up, Elizabeth. Those Doritos are a hazard, aren’t they?”
“Don’t I know it, dude. Thanks,” she called out. “Uh, did you find the Tapatío flavor, Charlotte?”
Frantically, I looked around, snagging a bag off the floor. “Yes! It was precariously perched, and I am clumsy. I’m so sorry.” Her attempt to cover my bumbling effort to hide from Cade was admirable. I made a mental note to bring her some swag when I came back to sign her book. Us girls had to stick together.
“Charlotte,” he greeted as he approached.
